


Maelstrom

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Emotional suffering, Episode: s06e01 The Desert Rose, F/M, Hating the one you love, Hurt/Comfort, No Sex, Rage, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violent Thoughts, bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8340166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Much darker than my usual. More like writing therapy, for me, waiting for the season six premiere episode. All the tension from the hiatus, spoilers, promos, sneak peeks, BTS photos leaked into this. Strong images. Most of it is not pretty. Jane loses it, then implodes. Rated ‘E’ for explicit violence, suicidal ideation. NO SEX. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.Originally posted at FFnet on September 27, 2013. Now here with refining edits.





	

_What a fucking bitch! She'd get herself killed! Get them all killed. He could go. He could watch anyone go before him. Except her. He'd die protecting her and she would be destroyed to know he'd done it. She would live a dead life. And she would deserve it!_  


Patrick Jane paced in fury, naked except for his cotton briefs, stabbing his long, gripping fingers into his hair and drawing his them down like barbs, catching it, pinching it out with the strength of his desperate grip. He battered the wall with his large, powerful fists, sinking holes wherever they landed. Bellowing a rage that seemed to have no end. He hated her! Hated what she'd done to them all. He wanted to kill her himself. End this madness. End this hunt. Kill the prey and finish it.  


But killing her wouldn't end it. If she was dead, he might as well be. Only his death would stop the cycle of killing.  


He didn't want to die. He had kept hope, trusted in Teresa Lisbon to keep his secrets. But she couldn't. He should never have told her. Never. But his love for her had gotten in the way, made a prime sucker out of him. And the only way left to salvage this whole damn mess was to put an end to himself. Take away Red John's favorite toy. All the energy of this god-awful gargantuan whirlpool that was sucking them down. And Patrick Jane at the bottom of it.  


Shut it all down, like toggling the off-switch on the PlayStation when it was time to go to bed. It would be dark. And calm. And no one would hurt or be in danger because of him again. He hated Lisbon for cutting all his options. He loved life. To survive when Red John died would be a triumph. But Lisbon had taken that all away. The fire of his fury boiled over again, a relentless animal that consumed his insides with acid and bile.  


How could she fuck him over like this? She'd betrayed him! The bitch had used him for a sucker, playing him for a mark, making him believe in trust and partnership, but all the while bleeding him for information she would use her own way. The god-damned fucking, lying piece of shit bitch! She deserved any misery she got! And if he could think of ways to make it worse, to make her suffer more, he would do it! The fucking, two-faced lying little bitch! Dumping him in the desert to get him out of the way.  


His foot landed flat against the closed bathroom door and it burst open easily, the doorknob a deadly projectile that connected with the tile and cracked it, pieces crumbling to the floor. The muscles of his abdomen heaved a sickly rhythm, no longer able to handle the contents of his stomach when so much blood was needed elsewhere to fuel his unending rage. He vomited bitterness into the bowl and then heaved nothing until his back hurt. Finally convinced he was as empty as he felt, his body stopped convulsing.  


Sweat was pouring down his ribs from his armpits, sloshing into his eyes from his ashen brow. He walked to the sink in the dressing alcove and picked up the stainless steel kettle he used to make tea, grasping the handle in his fist. He looked like a craven monster in the mirror. He was that monster. He shattered it with the first blow of the kettle in his hand and the shards rained from the wall in chattering madness, spilling into the sink to slide high into the air like an amusement park ride. Splinters and bits landed on his face, pinpricks of red broke out everywhere. His left eyelid was gashed as a sliver of glass skated it like a knife on its way to somewhere else. Even his chest and shoulders, his stomach blossomed with tiny cuts. But what did that matter? There were big enough pieces to do the job he needed.  


Sitting on the bed, he looked at both of his white wrists, delicate for a man, but the veins throbbing with the pressure of the fury that pumped through him. He thought wryly that if he could maintain his anger, he would be passed out and dead before he knew it. This could be fast.  


Jane grew strangely calm, his mind beginning to float and taking any real awareness of his body with it. It was almost like this was happening to someone else. He would make himself really happy and pretend that he was cutting Red John, slicing him, exacting the revenge he had craved all these years. He didn't have to fool himself for long. It would be over in no time.  


He thought of Lisbon. He would call her Teresa now. Surely he had earned that right. His dream of who she was, so beautiful, so loving and caring, so stalwart a friend and partner. All a lie to use him and leave him behind. She seemed far away, too. He would think of himself as going to her, going to that lie. What would it matter? Killing Red John and going to the lie of Lisbon. Yes. He could do this. Tears streamed down his face. He would miss life, miss the dream of what he thought it could be with Teresa. But that didn't matter now. He would go to his dream of her and that would be enough for the few remaining minutes of his life.  


Laying the edge of the large shard he had chosen against the veins of his left wrist, he knew it would not matter whether he cut across or lengthwise because he intended to be complete. He pressed down and watched a thin line of blood well slowly up.  


"Jane! Jane!"  


Someone was trying to splinter the exterior door.  


"Jane! Let me in this instant! I am not waiting! One. Two. Three!"  


There was a massive boom and Jane watched the door actually bow from the force of whatever had hit it before it burst open. Teresa Lisbon stood before him, lowering a steel-toed boot and screamed at what she saw.  


"No! NO! Stop! Now! NOW!"  


Jane hesitated. He always hesitated when Lisbon was angry at him, yelled at him. What was she doing here? His mind had already prepared to die and could not latch on to anything about ongoing life.  


Lisbon grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully until he yelled in pain and dropped the glass. Here she was again, destroying his plans, destroying everything! She was determined to get them killed! He picked up the dropped shard of glass. Its red edge gleamed as it let slide two small drops of blood that landed on his thigh.  


"NO! Drop it, Jane, or you'll wish you had!"  


She was threatening him. With what? He found himself landing hard, face down on the carpet, heard the familiar clink of handcuffs locking and felt the cold metal on his cut wrist. She yanked the other arm behind him to complete the restraint, and he howled with pain and swore at her. He was in no dreamland now.  


"You bitch! You fucking bitch! You can't even let me have this much control over my own life! Get the fuck out of here! Leave me alone! I'm going to fix this shit once and for all!"  


"You're fixing nothing like this! I'll be the bitch! I'll gladly be the bitch. You're not going to throw your life away because we've had a serious disagreement. You asinine wimp! Fuck you!"  


"FUCK YOU!" he roared, forcing himself into a seated position on the carpet, ignoring the strain it caused to his arms and shoulders.  


Lisbon watched him spring from a sitting position to a squat, preparing to stand up, perhaps charge her like a bull. He turned his face to her and roared his fury, his face distorted, crimson, using the power of it to force himself to his feet. She kicked them out from under him and he landed flat on his butt.  


"Give it up, Jane. You're no match for me in your condition."  


He was grunting with pain, but she didn't give a damn. She surveyed him as he struggled and swore. His entire face and torso was a film of blood, dried and streaked dark in many places. She could see pricks of glass studding his skin like small spines on a cactus. His left hand was greasy with it where he had cut it, but it was not spurting or even really flowing. She had arrived just in time and she was very glad she had not stood arguing with him at the door.  


"Do you have a gun or a knife or another weapon in here?"  


"Fuck you, Lisbon! Do I look like I'm packing a six-shooter? No! There's nothing here except some plastic ware. Why do you think I broke the mirror, you stu—" He stopped himself from completing the insult.  


"I think you had a tantrum, Jane. That's what I think. You didn't get your way. You fed it and fed it after we left you at the café and you grew it into a deadly monster. And then you threw something at the mirror and broke it."  


"You don't know anything. I beat it down. With the teakettle."  


"Oh. So you do have a weapon, then. I've always known you were hell with a teakettle, Jane, but this is a little ridiculous. I see the bathroom door made you mad, too."  


"Shut up, Lisbon. Just shut the fuck up. What are you doing here?"  


"Saving your ass. I'd think that was obvious."  


"Saving me for what? How many more people have to die? Saving me." He gave a dry laugh, soft and bitter. "Saving me so I can find you cut to ribbons? What an incentive."  


"That's not gonna happen."  


"Why did you break your promise, Lisbon?"  


"I broke no promise."  


"Oh! So you're really gonna play me now, is that it? Fucking hell, Lisbon, I told you to tell no one. You promised. You bitch. You betrayed me."  


"Did I ever say that? Did I ever say that, Jane? No. You demanded it and thought that was enough to secure my obedience. I understand that you thought you had a promise, but I gave no such thing. And then when you were so spooked about Red John being ahead of you, and that you didn't know what to do next . . . I had to act, Jane. The lives of the team and any other innocents that get in the way, your life. They're my responsibility. I had to make a decision with the best information I had. I made it and that's that."  


"You played me, Lisbon. You've been playing me all along."  


"You don't believe that. You know it isn't true."  


"You know you promised. Even if you didn't say the words."  


"It doesn't work that way, Jane. I did the best I could. And I tried to get as close to what you wanted as I could. I didn't tell the whole team. I only told Grace because she has special technical skills I could put to use. I have a mind, too, and training, and a team. And I have you. My partner."  


"I'm no good. I'm the reason he'd come for you. If I'm dead, it all stops."  


"Who says? Who says what he'll do? Maybe you're that important. Maybe you're too full of yourself to see that you're not Jesus, and he's not God the Father. You don't have to sacrifice yourself for our sins. Wake up, for Christ's sake!"  


"Really, Lisbon?" Jane rolled his eyes at her. "You're giving me a religious analogy?"  


"It's what I've got right now. And it's apt. One of you has got to let go of Red John's narcissistic rope. It should be you. Don't be a dope."  


Jane sighed.  


"And I'm warning you. You call me bitch one more time and I will level your balls. Do you understand me, Jane?"  


He refused to look at her, muttering under his breath.  


"I'm going to ask you once more. Do you understand me?"  


"Yes," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to say such terrible things to you."  


"I know. You have to trust me, Jane. We have to trust each other. Even when we don't agree. Because I need you, Jane. You're my partner. I need you. I can't do this alone."  


Lisbon got to practical matters. "Technically, you are off duty. And I am here as a friend, not in any official capacity. But I have to ask you, Jane. Do you need to go to a hospital? And I'm not talking for these cuts. They're minor and we can take care of them with general first aid unless you want to go to a hospital for them. You won't like me pulling out these bits of glass, though. I'm asking if you're safe, mentally. If you intend to try this again."  


Jane said nothing.  


"If you keep silent, I will assume the answer is no, you are not safe, and call an ambulance. As your friend and partner, you need to tell me the truth. Are you going to try this again?"  


"No."  


"You're not crossing your fingers or figuring you have an out because you didn't say "promise" or some silly shit, are you?"  


He looked at her sharply, narrowing his eyes. "You've got a lot of balls, saying that to me just now, Lisbon."  


"I've got what I need. Now, which is it?"  


"No. I promise I will not try to kill myself again. I don't need to go to a hospital. I don't want anyone to know about this."  


"I didn't think you would. If it was me, I'd feel the same."  


She studied him carefully, employing everything she knew about him from nearly ten years of experience, and decided he was telling the truth. "Okay. Let me help you sit on the bed and we'll get you patched up."  


"The door. You tore up the door."  


"Oh. Let me take a look at it. Maybe the damage isn't too bad."  


Jane rolled his eyes again. But Lisbon was right. It wouldn't keep anyone determined out, but it would lock and that was enough for the time being. Maybe Red John was busy tonight. She rebuked herself for the dark sarcasm.  


"Let me out of these cuffs."  


"Not just yet. Let me get some soap and water together, whatever I need to clean you up." When I come back, I'll uncuff you. Just stay here and rest."  


When she had what she needed, Lisbon set the things on the table, pulled it close to the bed and pulled a chair up for herself. Then she removed the cuffs. "Now, lie down and let me see what we've got here." Luckily, there was enough light in the room for her purpose. She swallowed hard several times as she saw the damage he had done to himself. But she said nothing. It was very uncomfortable for him when she snagged the washcloths on bits of embedded glass, but this step also removed a lot of the glass that was just pitting the surface.  


When she had him washed down and clean, she started pulling out the deeper bits, using a tweezers. "Just go to sleep if you want, Jane. This is going to take a while and I'm sure you need the rest right now."  


"Sleep? While you're pinching me all over?"  


"I'm sorry. I'll be as careful as I can. But it has to be done."  


Jane gently grasped her forearm and gave it a little squeeze. "I know you'll be careful with me, Lisbon. I know"  


"Don't you have some biofeedback something for this?"  


"Yeah."  


He did drop off to sleep, dozing, insensible as she extracted the last bits from his face and smeared the totality of the affected areas with antibiotic ointment. His wrist she bound with strips torn from an unused pillowcase. It would take longer to heal, but it was not serious. It was very late when she finished. And then she cleared the glass as best she could, clinking it in a wastebasket. Jane never even stirred.  


Exhausted, she didn't want to leave him. She put out the light. Loosely cuffing his uninjured wrist she bound him to hers and laid down beside him to rest, sleep if she could. She was out in no time.  


Something nearly jerked her arm off, but someone else said, "Ow! What the—?"  


She sat up, looking blearily at Jane. "Sorry. I wanted to know if you got up."  


"Well, now you know. Are you going to follow me to the john, too, watch me take a whiz?"  


"Drop the sarcasm. I'm in no mood. And you already know I can take you."  


"I told you I'm not going to do anything. Turn me loose."  


She undid the cuff on his wrist, letting it dangle from her own. Then she got up and switched on a light. In a few moments he was out, having washed his hands in the tub to avoid any stray glass at the sink. Maybe she shouldn't have laughed, but as he approached she noticed a wet spot, making his thin briefs cling to the head of his dick.  


"You always lose the last few drops, huh?" Lisbon covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled. She could see the indent of his pee-hole.  


Jane looked down at himself. "Yeah. So? You had brothers, so it shouldn't be news."  


"Well, I haven't seen them like this as adults, so I wouldn't bring them into it."  


"Maybe I should get dressed. This is pretty casual, I guess."  


"Considering what we've been through tonight, I wouldn't worry about it. I'd say we've reached a new level of our relationship."  


"We have, haven't we? The hard way."  


"As usual."  


"My skin stings all over."  


"Price you pay, my dear."  


"Spare me." He brushed his hands over the affected areas. It's hot. Is it red?"  


Lisbon drew him into better light. "Yeah. It's got antibiotic on it. Probably just inflammation from the injuries. You want some aspirin or something? Probably make you feel better."  


"That's a good idea." He started to move back to the bathroom area.  


"That's okay. Just tell me where it is and I'll get it for you."  


When he had taken the meds, he put out the light again and they lay down.  


"You can take your bracelet off now."  


"Oh." She removed the dangling handcuffs.  


"I'm sorry I put you through such hell."  


"I'm sure you wouldn't if you could help it."  


"You're always so understanding, Lisbon. Tough. And a little too willing to use violence . . ." He looked at her pointedly. "But you're always there for me."  


"You're my partner Jane. That's what partners do. Even when they disagree. Even when they're angry as hell. You tried to desert your partner tonight. Do you know how much that hurts? I need you, Jane. Don't ever do that to me again. I won't be so nice."  


"Yes you would. But I won't do it again." He shook his head at the obvious, left unsaid, but said it. "You left me, Lisbon. Drove off and left me in the desert."  


"Obviously not the same. But I here you. I won't leave you like that again."  


He looped an arm towards her. "C'mere, partner."  


When she leaned towards him, he scooped her close and gave her a hug. She encircled his chest as far as her arms could go and hugged him back. They let go of each other and got under the covers, maintaining a safe distance, but thinking what it would be like to do otherwise.  


In the morning, a Saturday luckily, Lisbon opened her eyes to Jane's appraising look. They kept eye contact, each seeing the physical stirrings in the other's eyes.  


"You know," said Lisbon. "We're going to have to talk about this soon."  


"Yeah." He cleared his throat, surprised she had said it. "Yes." He spoke in that soft, clipped way he had, and then looked up, right into her eyes. "But not today. Not yet. We'll just have an understanding for now. Is that okay, Lisbon?"  


She looked at him curiously, not needing a declaration of what she already knew. Just yet. "Yes. In fact, it's very nice, Jane."  


Lisbon put her boots on and prepared to leave. "Are you going to be all right here for awhile?"  


"Yes. I'll be fine. I will." He walked to where she stood with her hand on the knob of the damaged door. Her emergency repair job had been pretty good.  


"Lisbon," he called quietly.  


When she turned to him, he had bent down, bringing his face close for a kiss. She wanted that kiss. It was soft and sweet, almost chaste, but not quite. "Mmmmmmm."  


With her sound of approval, it was over and he drew back, smiling.  


"Part of our understanding?" she said, her eyes bright and teasing.  


"Yes. A very nice part."  


"All right. I'll call you this afternoon, see how you're doing. Don't make me ring long. It goes to voice mail, I'm over here and there will be hell to pay."  


"That won't happen."  


"Call the manager, get your checkbook ready, and get this stuff fixed. I'll fill you in on Van Pelt's progress when I have news." She threw something on his bed. "Burner phone. It's programmed. I'll call you on that. Take the battery out of your other one."  


"Okay. Don't be long." The worry was back in his face. "I need you, partner."  


Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she smiled and went out the door.  


Jane knew better than to do other than what she had instructed him for the time being.


End file.
